The Best of Friends
by candy-belle
Summary: It's not often Clint manages to surprise Natasha but when he does she loves it. Another little ficcet looking at the deep, deep friendship between Clint & Natasha, I just love their relationship so much. Story features Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, with a very vague mention of Clint Barton/Phil Coulson with deep friendship, fluff and a touch of angst.


**Title:** The Best of Friends  
**Rating:** 12  
**Summary:** It's not often Clint manages to surprise Natasha but he does she loves it.  
**Featuring:** Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, with a very vague mention of Clint Barton/Phil Coulson  
**Genre/warnings:** deep friendship, fluff and a touch of angst  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters of Marvel Movies. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.  
**Notes:** Another little ficcet looking at the deep, deep friendship between Clint & Natasha, I just love their relationship so much x Anyway, as always this is unbeta'd so any mistakes you find, please, please, please forgive (I mean it PLEASE!)

**On to the story…..**

"Hey Tasha, watcha doin?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Barton" sighed Natasha glaring at the master archer as he grinned at her from the doorway. Resitting the urge to roll her eyes at him, she went back to cleaning her gun, the parts meticulously laid out in front of her on the work bench.

"Did you actually want something or are you just here to annoy me?" asked Natasha pointedly when she realised he hadn't wandered away and was in fact staring intently at her.

"I want something," retorted Clint, pushing away from the doorframe. He strode over to where she was sitting and, slinging one leg over the bench, he straddled the seat so he ended up facing her as he sank down onto the slim bench. Shifting position slightly his knee purposely brushed against hers, a silent request for her full attention.

Slowly Natasha lowered the barrel of the gun she was working on and cocked her head. Taking a moment to look at Clint's expression she gave a slight sigh, enquiring with fond irritation, "What are you up?"

"Nothing!" exclaimed Clint, trying to look innocent – it was ruined by the massive smirk lighting up his face.

Natasha didn't reply but her look must have told him that her patience was wearing thin because the smirk suddenly fell away, and suddenly it was no longer Hawkeye grinning at her, it was Clint. Clint, her best friend, the one person she trusted to have her back, the one person she would willingly lower all of her guards for. She offered him a slight smile asking with a gentler tone, "Liar, tell me what you up to?"

"I'm not up to anything," countered Clint, sulking slightly at the accusation, "I just came find you and well…" he fumbled behind himself and then produced from god-knows-where a small slender package wrapped in disturbingly sparkly purple paper and tied with an equally glittery ribbon. He held it out to her and, looking for all the world like a little kid, he added, "I got you this."

Natasha took the package wearily, staring at it as if she expected it to blow up in her face or at the very least explode in a shower of glittery hearts. She was still recovering from Stark's last attempt to prank her.

"Don't worry, Tony hasn't been anywhere near it," chuckled Clint, knowing exactly what she as thinking without having to ask.

Giving a little humph of disbelief, she set the package on the table and stared at it. She wasn't used to getting gifts. They hadn't featured much in her childhood and even now with the team, the with pseudo family round her, gifts were a rare and sometimes disturbing phenomenon for her. She glanced at Clint, staring at his face, surprised by the open expression currently gracing his features. He looked so excited, so genuinely excited she couldn't help but murmur, "What is it?"

"Open it up and you'll find out," huffed Clint, pouting slightly that she was reacting so weirdly to his offered present.

She reached out to touch the paper, then hesitated a moment, flicking him a look.

"Tasha it's safe," reassured Clint, the master archer fully understanding her reluctance to open a strange package, "I promise, total and utterly safe. Well the packaging is, the gift," he sniggered under his breath before snapping fondly, "Just open the damn thing!"

She glared at him but obeyed nonetheless. Methodically undoing the purple bow she then eased the paper apart, taking care not to tear it. As she unrolled the slender gift her eyes widen with surprise then delight as the slender stiletto blade came into view. It was an antique throwing knife. She'd seen it a few weeks ago when they had accompanied Coulson on a trip to an antique shop downtown. She'd spent ages staring at it while Coulson haggled over some more Captain American trading cards with the owner. She had fallen in love the elegant handle and the exquisitely engraved blade so much so that Clint had asked her what was making her smile. She hadn't bought it, despite Clint telling her to get it, she rarely treated herself to such an indulgent luxury but the fact that Clint, that wonderful, annoying Clint had gone back and got it for her, touched her to the core.

She flicked him a look and, in a soft, almost breathless voice, she murmured, "Его красивый поблагодарить вас" (_its beautiful, thank you_)

Clint grinned at the rarely spoken Russian. Natasha smiled as well, she knew how much he enjoyed hearing her speak her native tongue. His response though had her openly giggling, as much as Clint loved hearing Russian she adored it when he responded in kind, the grinning archer offering in faultless Russian, "Вы приветствуем" _(you're welcome)_

She shoulder bumped him hard, smirking as he grunted in surprise and grabbed hold of her thigh to stop himself toppling off the bench.

"Hey!" protested Clint, play pouting at her as he righted himself on the bench, "Be nice. I just gave you a present."

"I am being nice," teased Natasha, beaming with delight, "I didn't floor you."

"That's true," chuckled Clint. He fell silent a moment then biting his lower lip, he flicker her a strange look and enquired, "You ok, Tasha? You seemed withdrawn lately, especially during training the other day."

She spared him a glance, her eyebrow cocked in surprise. She had been distracted but not in the way Clint thought. Its was because of anything bad – for once. Instead she had been distracted by the thought of messy curls and gentle eyes, by the way a certain scientist always fumbled with his glasses when he tried to explain a complex theory to her but she hadn't thought anyone had noticed but then she shoud have known better. No one knew her as well as Clint. No one understood her as well as he did and no one, not one singular solitary soul in the world, cared for her more than Clint did.

At first she had been terrified of that fact, scared that they would do something to ruin a relationship that meant more to her anything else in the world. But very quickly they had realised that they worked better as just friends. Not to mention that soon after that epiphany Clint had finally found himself in the middle of very committed relationship with a certain handler that they both adored.

Doing a quick sweep of their surroundings, she leant over and brushing a soft platonic kiss over Clint's cheek, she whispered, "Thank you"

"My genuine pleasure," replied Clint, offering her the warmest smile possible. He sat up stretching his back slightly. Then, with his smile morphing into a slightly knowing smirk, he swung his leg over the bench preparing to stand up and murmured absently, "By the way, I asked Banner if he wanted to go from a drink tonight – you wanna come as well?"

She stared at him in open horror, realising that once again he had seen through her pretence and knew what lay at the core of her thoughts. For a moment she felt light headed, still unused even after all these years to having someone who was able to read her as clearly as Clint did. But as he offered her a placating smile and a soft brush of his hand against her thigh, the world came rushing back and she smacked his arm, ordering, "Stop meddling!"

"I'm not meddling," protested Clint as he got to his feet, "I'm just…" he glanced down at her and pausing to tuck a stray stand of hair behind her ear, he risked bodily harm as he leant in and murmured in her ear, "I simply want to see you happy, красивый" _(beautiful)._

She glared at him the way she did whenever he was too sentimental but the gentle squeeze she gave his nearest hand let him know how much his meddling really meant to her. Shooting her a knowing wink Clint stepped back and, with a slight nod of his head, he turned and left her to finish cleaning her gun. As the door closed behind him, she looked back at the table and, tracing the engraving on her new blade, she wondered how she could replay her meddling hawk for everything he had ever done for her. After all she knew she owed him more than just her friendship – she owed him her life.

FIN x


End file.
